Flood
by MakeACircuitWithMe
Summary: Life isn't always what we'd like it to be.  Sometimes we get by with a little help from our friends.  AU.  Mech and human OC.


The low breeze flitted across the hilltop. The surrounding trees were silent, but for the patter on the bright green leaves. The sky, once blue and welcoming, had turned a sour gray.

The girl sat motionless, perched on her favorite spot – a large, granite outcropping that overlooked the ravine and forest beyond. The stone, a strong, silent sentry in her private retreat, was now much darker than usual. The contrasting speckles in its surface complimented the bits of grass and mud that clung to her naked feet. She had pulled her knees up to her chest, and sat with her arms wrapped around them; her chin tucked protectively between her knees and breast. She stared out over the landscape with distant eyes, oblivious to the tiny droplets that formed, and fell, from the tip of her nose.

She was as still and as silent as the world around her.

He stood there, frozen in place, and watched her from the far edge of the hilltop for quite some time. His mind raced. He tried to understand why she was here. His spark pulsed erratically. How should he approach her?

In a manner not typically attributed to him, the mech stepped forward with gentle grace, and closed the distance between them. He stood just beyond where grass and stone merged, and observed her. She sat unmoving except for the occasional, seemingly involuntary twitch of a toe. He had to remain perfectly still to catch the subtle rise and fall of her chest, and although he saw her eyelids dip once or twice; she never blinked. Her gaze remained locked on something for beyond the reaches of this world.

He could feel her pain creeping through their bond. It was dark and sharp and bitter, and it snaked its way over everything she normally was; suffocating it, drowning her joy, her light, in thick, viscous venom. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her, and make it all better. But he couldn't. He didn't know where to begin.

He lowered his helm, and quietly sank down to kneel behind her in the slick grass.

"I've been looking for you."

She offered him no response.

"Rinn?"

Her eyes never waived from their distant, empty stare.

"I'm here when you need me," he offered, his words barely more than a whisper.

She made a tiny sniffling sound, but otherwise remained unchanged. He dimmed his optics and waited. He would wait an eternity if she wanted him to. Several eternities if need be. He would be there for her, however long it took.

It felt like an infinity of eternities had passed before she finally spoke.

"Why?"

The word was small, pained, and barely more than breath of air through her lips.

He lifted his helm to look at her. She remained unmoved; frozen in time. Her hair, her usually vibrant, blowing hair, was now a tangled mass of wet that clung to her face, her neck, and her shoulders. Her soaked clothes clung to her frame. He could make out the small, tell-tale texture her skin assumed when her core temperature dropped. It pained him to see her like this.

"Why what?"

Her eye lids dipped momentarily then stilled again. She sat motionless and silent; another eternity passing. Patiently, he waited.

"Why?"

The tiniest, metallic sigh whispered through his vents. His helm drooped and he sank down; his skidplating resting on his pedes. His sagging posture relayed the utterly lost feeling that consumed him.

"I'm sorry I'm not as philosophical, or as telepathic, or as … as … whatever it is like other bots. We could sit here, and I could start guessing what the "why" is referring to, but I know that'll just upset you more. So, could you please just tell me what's wrong? I'll do whatever I can to fix it – I swear to Primus I will. Just. Please. I can't stand to see you hurting like this. Please tell me what's wrong…"

His optics scanned her top to bottom for any sign, any response. There was none to be had. So he would wait. He knew the routine. This wasn't the first time they'd stood here and danced on broken glass. Soon enough the flood would come – when she was ready to release it. Till then the storm would rage inside her, swelling and churning until she burst.

Like always, he would be there to keep her from being swept away in it. He wasn't ordinarily a patient mech, but for her, he'd always make an exception.

They sat there – the girl on her rock, cold, battered, and faded – the mech kneeling in the wet grass behind her; waiting. The only sound passing between them was the subtle "ting-ting-ting" on his scarlet armor. He pressed his chin to his chest, shuttered his optics, and waited for the tempest within her to spill out.

"Why does it have to hurt so much?"

If not for his finely tuned receptors, her too softly spoken words would have been lost amongst the hush surrounding them.

He lifted his helm, snapping his optics open to stare at her unmoving figure. He hadn't expected her to reply this soon. The dance never progressed this quickly, and he began to fear the storm raging inside her. Would he be able to hold out against it? Would he be able to save her from her pain? Would it swallow him whole this time?

"Why does it have to hurt so much?" she asked again.

His optics never left her, as his processors fumbled to find the words.

"I don't know. I wish it didn't. I wish I could make it stop. Make all your pain go away."

She made that tiny sniffling noise again. He cocked his head to the side and silently watched as another droplet formed, then fell from the tip of her nose. His spark twisted and thrashed and screamed in fury and anguish seeing her like this.

"I wish you could, too…"

Her words were so frail. So lost. So timid. They were not her usual confident, boisterous, and unapologetic offerings. These belonged to someone else. Someone he'd rather never see. He was almost grateful when the silence returned to envelope them.

Time froze as they sat there, still and unmoving, statues in a twisted display. The patter on leaves and armor built.

"Why does it have to be so difficult?"

He inched closer to her across the soaked earth, broken blades of grass clinging to his mud-spattered legs. He paused momentarily before answering.

"I'm told the answer to that is cos nothing is easy."

He had hoped that his usual, jovial nature would pull her from her virtual stasis. He was disappointed when it didn't. He sank further into himself, and waited.

"I never asked for easy."

"No, you didn't."

The wet blades squeaked beneath his knees as he scooted closer still. He wanted to reach forward, to scoop her up in his arms. He wanted to envelope her, and hold her against his spark. He wanted to hold her till it was all better, till they were both healed. He had learned long, long ago how dangerous that could be if she wasn't ready. He had learned to wait for the flood to spill. He had learned it was better to let it rage and wash away the pain, than to try and contain it. She wasn't ready yet; her personal tempest hadn't yet reached its crescendo. So he would wait. He would wait and reach out for her; ready to catch her when the dam broke.

"It wasn't sposed to be this way."

"Maybe it was," he said with a light shrug of his shoulders.

Her head lifted slightly, and for the briefest moment her eyes focused, a sharp clarity filling them for a fraction of a second. In the distance he heard it – the subtle creaking. It was the harbinger signaling the impending flood. He braced himself as best he could for it.

"I never wanted it to be like this."

Her words little more than mumbled. Her eyes flicked and squinted in the building deluge.

"I know you didn't."

His words accented by the boom and roll of heavy thunder in the distance.

_**A/N**_

_**Ok. So. Not as warm and fluffy as some of my other stuff, but it's not all rainbows and unicorns folks.**_

_**The OC belongs to me. The non-OC doesn't I don't make any money off this; I just do it for fun. I hope you've enjoyed it.**_


End file.
